


The Neal and Bryce Conundrum

by Mums_the_Word



Series: Strange Encounters [2]
Category: Chuck (TV), White Collar
Genre: A Decadent Birthday Bash, Gen, Lamborghinis, Matchmaking, Microchips, Ottoman Treasures, The Lambada, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25308100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mums_the_Word/pseuds/Mums_the_Word
Summary: This fictional story is meant to follow on the heels of my previous one, “Bryce’s Doppelganger.” I thought it would be interesting to put Neal and Bryce together as a sort of team attempting to complete two very different missions involving the same villain. Of course, poor Chuck Bartowski, the Intersect, is being pulled in separate directions during the action. The premise of this fic is based on Season 2, Episode 3, of “Chuck.”
Relationships: Bryce Larkin/Sarah Walker, Chuck Bartowski & Neal Caffrey, Chuck Bartowski & Sarah Walker, Neal Caffrey & Bryce Larkin, Neal Caffrey & Mozzie
Series: Strange Encounters [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1831561
Comments: 8
Kudos: 34





	1. An Uncomfortable Meeting

Neal Caffrey was carefully contouring the black bow tie on the pristine white shirt of his Ralph Lauren tuxedo. “Those glad rags were pricey,” Mozzie complained as he stared at his criminal partner’s image in the full length mirror. “I can’t fathom why you needed a penguin suit that costs $3,000. A simple prom tux would have done the same job.”

Neal smiled indulgently, “People judge, Moz, and the ritzy crowd I’m going to be rubbing elbows with tonight are pretentious California snobs who can spot an ersatz wanna-be in the blink of an eye. Someone once told me to dress as the person I aspire to be rather than who I really am.”

Mozzie snorted. “Yeah, and that guy was Vincent Adler who screwed with your head and made us paupers. Now we have to go slinking around to scrounge up enough fencible stuff to keep ourselves in Ramen noodles.”

“Our situation isn’t that dire, Oliver Twist,” Neal objected.

Mozzie heaved a disgusted sigh. “Look, Neal, no matter who you look like on the outside, you’re still a sneak thief on the inside. Keep your head out of the clouds and your mind on the prize. Those little trinkets that Von Hayes has in his collection are priceless, mon frère. Since he likes to flaunt his wealth, I’m betting they’re displayed somewhere right out in the open. You just have to sneak away from his birthday gala and find out where.”

The “trinkets” to which Mozzie was referring were very esoteric and rare. They were part of a very wealthy man’s assortment of antique 16th century Ottoman memorabilia that included a large gold Turkish coin fashioned into a necklace, which a long-ago sultan had gifted to his favorite wife in his harem. She was one lucky lady because other items included a bejeweled ring, several ruby-studded bracelets, and a belt made out of ivory with a buckle encrusted with diamonds.

“Everything is small enough to stuff in your pockets except for the belt. Just remove the buckle from the ivory and then you can hide that gaudy sparkler away as well,” Mozzie advised.

“Got it, Moz!” Neal said impatiently. “I know what I’m doing. You just make sure you’re waiting in the wings when I pass them off to you. Then you can make yourself scarce through the kitchen exit and disappear into the night.”

“Not a problem,” Mozzie assured his partner in crime. “As a lowly catering servant, I’ll practically be invisible to the hoity-toity guests. I’ll constantly be going back and forth to the kitchen to replenish my tray of little canapes, and after we do the swap, I’ll make like a ghost and fade away.”

~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, Chuck Bartowski, the CIA’s most valuable asset, thanks to a complicated download of clandestine intel embedded in his brain, snagged another bottle of Lafite Rothschild from the bar where Casey was dispensing drinks with calm efficiency. Tonight Chuck’s mission, as dictated by General Beckman, was to blend in with the crowd near Von Hayes, a very nefarious character. The Agency had heard chatter that the wealthy mogul was in possession of a microchip containing the identities of all the ‘good guy’ spies throughout the world and was planning on selling it to an agent of an evil cabal named "Fulcrum" for fifteen million dollars. 

Tonight, Chuck’s backup included NSA agent Major John Casey, as well as Bryce Larkin and Sarah Walker, who were pretending to be a married couple named Anderson, a cover they had used in the past in South America. Bryce and Sarah together always made Chuck twitchy. They were just so, well, beautiful together, like two separate parts that only made sense when they were joined as a whole. That made lovesick Chuck a tad jealous, but Bryce was handsome, smart, and debonair, so getting the girl was always a cinch for him in college, and, apparently beyond the walls of academia. Chuck knew he was just your average nerd, if you didn’t factor in that accidental download into his brain called “The Intersect.” He didn’t fool himself that he had the right moves in the romance department. Sarah only stuck by his side because her mission was to protect him.

Chuck tugged down his black vest and shot the cuffs on the starched white shirt of his server’s outfit before picking up the full wine bottle and beginning to meander towards the target seated at a table with some friends. After he had taken just a few steps, he almost collided with Bryce, looking sophisticated and chic in his tux. Chuck was confused because the timing was off. “Bryce, where’s Sarah?” the Intersect said out of the corner of his mouth. “You were supposed to arrive together as a couple.”

The suave tuxedoed man whirled towards the lanky, tall guy with a tray in his hands and his expression was beyond shocked. “Chuck?” he murmured in surprise.

“Yeah, Bryce, it’s me doing what the General told me to do,” Chuck hurriedly whispered. “Now, you tell me what’s going on. Was there a change in the plan and nobody was considerate enough to tell me?”

“Chuck … Chuck Bartowski?” Neal murmured in dazed disbelief. “Damn, I guess the world is really smaller than what I thought. I also thought we got past all that ‘Bryce’ malarkey over a year ago in New York. You told me that Larkin, my doppelganger, was dead because dumb schmuck Casey had killed him.”

“No, no,” Chuck stuttered nervously as he realized he was talking to Neal Caffrey rather than Bryce Larkin. “Bryce isn’t dead. He came back like Lazarus from the great beyond and now he’s working missions for us.”

“Us?” Neal challenged.

“Yeah, ‘us,’ as in the good guys,” Chuck smiled tentatively.

“I think that ‘good guys’ thing is an issue for a later debate,” Neal said drolly. “You spy people give me the heebie-jeebies, justifying your nefarious actions by claiming it’s all done for the greater good.”

“It is!” Chuck said with a decisive nod of his head. “And right now you’re right in the middle of an important op so you should leave right away.”

“And just maybe I’m in the middle of my own important op and don’t want to leave,” Neal challenged.

“I could tell Casey,” Chuck threatened. “He’s right over there behind the bar.”

Neal rolled his eyes. “Oh, goody, now the whole band’s back together again! If this Bryce Larkin guy turns up, it’ll be twice the fun for Casey because now there’s two of us he can try to kill.”

“No, Casey and Bryce have reached a state of détente because Bryce really wasn’t a rogue agent after all. It was all a misunderstanding,” Chuck said as if that made all kinds of sense to Neal.

“How nice for them,” the con man/thief sneered. “That just makes me the odd man out, and an ugly giant ogre over there is gonna be out for payback!”

Just then, Chuck caught sight of the real Bryce and lovely Sarah swanning into the ballroom through an archway across the room. He quickly grabbed Neal’s arm. The nerd made a point of jerking his head in the direction of the new arrivals for Neal’s benefit. As expected, seeing was believing, and a stunned con man heard himself murmuring, “What the hell?”

“Look, I don’t know how to handle this little snafu,” Chuck babbled. “It’s above my paygrade, so can you make yourself scarce temporarily while I confer with my handlers? Please, please, Neal. Maybe just hang out in the men’s room for a few minutes,” he pleaded.

“You’ve got just ten precious minutes, and not a second longer,” Neal growled as he turned to leave the room by an adjacent blind hallway.

Chuck breathed a sigh of relief and used the reprieve to quickly move towards Bryce and Sarah. “Mayday, Mayday!” he said under his breath as he hovered beside the couple. “There’s a potential problem and he’s in the men’s room.”

Bryce and Sarah exchanged a look. “I’ll handle this, Mrs. Anderson,” Bryce said confidently. “You stay here and keep an eye on Von Hayes. Maybe Chuck can get close to the target and flash on where he may have that microchip.”

And that’s exactly what happened when Chuck, wine bottle in hand, meandered by and leaned in to refill the birthday boy’s glass flute. Suddenly, he glommed onto a keyring on the man’s belt loop, and the Intersect could clearly see the outline of an electronic piece of equipment disguised as a key fob. So, okay, the first part of the mission was accomplished. Chuck sincerely hoped that Bryce and Neal could come to a meeting of the minds so the op could be completed. Unfortunately, that wasn’t quite the scenario unfolding in the men’s bathroom at the moment.

An uninformed Bryce Larkin, expecting some evil goon to be inside, had kicked open the door to the bathroom and swung around with a gun in his hand. He was stopped short when he found himself staring at a very familiar face leaning against a sink with his arms folded across his chest. Neal was suddenly as startled as the CIA spy and found his own jaw dropping in stunned amazement.

“Wow, I think my Mama forgot to fill me in on a few details about my birth, or maybe I should say, _our_ birth,” Neal whispered.

Bryce looked dumbfounded as well. “I know they briefed me about this startling phenomenon,” he said in wonder as he lowered his weapon, “but actually seeing my doppelganger in the flesh is sort of unnerving.”

“So, it seems that I really do have a twin,” Neal drawled. “Do you think the world can withstand two of us wandering around creating our own brand of mayhem?”

“I don’t create mayhem,” Bryce objected. “I’m responsible for restoring order out of chaos. And, FYI, we are not related. We have different DNA so it’s just nature’s idea of a really sick joke.”

Neal snorted. “Well, since you say you’ve been _briefed_ about me, then you know all the good, the bad, and the ugly stuff like I’m a forger and a thief. But I’ve had firsthand experience with government spooks, as well. And I’ve concluded that you and the people you work for are only kidding yourselves about being the _good_ guys.”

“That’s a little judgy,” Bryce smirked.

“Just calling it like I see it,” Neal said haughtily, “and what I see right in front of me is weirding me out. You’re actually wearing an identical Ralph Lauren tux, your hair is parted on the same side as mine, and I’m even catching a whiff of Bvlgari cologne, the same scent I used tonight.”

Bryce decided to play the game. “Favorite color?”

“Blue,” Neal quickly answered.

“Ditto,” Bryce echoed.

“Chocolate or vanilla ice cream?” Neal challenged.

“Is that even a decision? Chocolate all the way,” Bryce answered as Neal nodded in agreement.

“Favorite movie— _Goldfinger_ or _The Thomas Crown Affair?”_ was Bryce’s next question.

 _“The Thomas Crown Affair_ , for obvious reasons,” Neal drawled, “although, considering our current professions, you’d probably prefer a James Bond classic.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s an occupational hazard,” Bryce agreed. “Now about our current job status,” he continued to muse thoughtfully, “how about you tell me why you’re here. I’m guessing it’s to steal something from our host.”

“And that’s more than likely why you’re here as well, although you’ll try to spin that little lark as noble and patriotic,” Neal mocked.

“Well, my mission does entail national security so it trumps a mundane theft,” Bryce claimed smugly. “And, obviously, having two of us in the same place at the same time is going to create problems, so you’ll have to hit the road by a back door minus whatever you intended to pilfer.”

Before the argument could escalate, the door to the bathroom creaked open. Bryce swung around with his gun again at the ready. Mozzie didn’t readily see the danger as he blithely strolled in mumbling, “Neal, why are you lurking in here?” When Neal’s partner in crime finally managed to take in an unbelievable sight, his jaw dropped and his hand flew to his head dislodging his toupee. “Sweet Mother Teresa! They’ve finally done it! The evil government consortium has managed to create clones!”

“Take it easy, Moz, before you have a coronary,” one of the identical men begged. “This is Bryce Larkin and he’s not a clone or my evil twin. He’s just an obnoxious government spy who happens to look a lot like me.”

“Either all the wine that I’ve imbibed over the years has finally disrupted my brain circuitry, or I’ve managed to step into the fourth dimension. Either way, it’s really frightening,” the little bald man whispered.

Just then, an impatient Casey barged in, scanned the occupants in the small room, and actually snarled, “Well, this is interesting. Now I can take care of some unfinished business after I figure out which one of you made a fool out of me in Greece last year. I never forget the ones that managed to get away, so I’m going to kill the dude named Neal Caffrey before I leave this room.”

“Shut up, Casey!” both Neal and Bryce said in perfect unison, making Mozzie moan and Casey growl.

Just then, an innocent party guest tried to enter the men’s room. Casey immediately grabbed him by the arm, twirled the surprised man around, and shoved him out the door with a gruff, “private party goin’ on, dude.”

“Yeah, and we need to break up this little reunion,” Neal said impatiently. “I have work to do.”

“So do I,” Bryce insisted.

The standoff continued with two identical handsome men trying to stare each other down. “So, an impasse,” Neal drawled. “Neither one of us is leaving before we get what we came for. Maybe, if we work together, we can both win.”

Just at that moment, Chuck stumbled into the bathroom, late to the party, as usual. He glanced from face to face and said timidly, “I see everybody has gotten acquainted, so I guess that’s a good thing? I’m Chuck, by the way,” he said politely to Mozzie as he held out his hand.

Mozzie simply ignored the newcomer because he was still staring in shocked fascination at the unbelievable tableau assembled in the small space.

“We’re still working out some issues,” Bryce said mildly.

“Well, maybe I can help,” Chuck insisted. “I know where the microchip is. It’s disguised as a key fob hanging on Von Hayes’ belt.”

Neal shook his head in disgust. “You people and your microdots and microchips are really getting beyond boring. You ought to broaden your horizons from time to time. There are more exciting things to get your hands on in this world where we live.”

Bryce chose to ignore the putdown, “So, now you know my agenda,” he said cynically. “What’s ours?”

Neal narrowed his eyes, calculated the odds of being truthful, then came to a swift decision. “I’m after some very old and precious Ottoman artifacts that Von Hayes has stashed somewhere in this mansion,” the con man finally deigned to answer honestly.

“Maybe we can work together,” Bryce replied thoughtfully. “Casey actually admitted that personal experience has taught him that you’re quite a proficient pickpocket. So, do you think you can get the key fob without Hayes realizing that you lifted it?”

“I’m insulted that you even felt it necessary to ask,” Neal mocked. “Now, can I assume that you’re culturally educated enough to recognize Ottoman artifacts when you see them? I’ll give you a leg up. I can provide pictures of them on my phone if you need visual aids.”

“How sporting of you,” Bryce muttered. “So, do we do this or not?”

Much to Casey and Mozzie’s horror, a pact was sealed, leaving only Chuck looking happy and upbeat.


	2. The Lambada and All Those Good Moves

While a thief and a spy began briefing each other on the logistics on their individual capers, Mozzie slunk out the door murmuring things like petri dishes and human cells. Casey followed in his wake muttering how he was just waiting for the opportunity to garrote a certain someone with his bow tie.

Chuck’s head was swiveling back and forth between the remaining two men. “Check out the upstairs study,” Neal advised Bryce. “I’m told that’s where Von Hayes likes to display his trophies.”

Bryce was also forthcoming. “My partner, Sarah Walker, is waiting for me outside. Join her and try to get close to the target and chat him up. Von Hayes has a thing for beautiful women, so while he’s distracted, you could try to lift his key fob,” he advised his alter ego.

“Don’t try to tell me how to do my job, Pal,” Neal complained. “I’m a master of misdirection and sleight of hand. How proficient are you at being a thief?”

“I stole the original _Intersect_ from a rogue organization trying to topple our government, so that gives me a lot of street cred,” Bryce boasted.

“What the hell is the _Intersect?”_ Neal wanted clarification.

“Need to know, and you, my look-alike friend, don’t need to know because that could put you directly in someone’s crosshairs,” was Bryce’s answer.

“I don’t need or want your protection, Bro, so stop being condescending,” Neal took issue with that statement.

“Can we just do this without all the pseudo-sibling rivalry?” Bryce huffed out.

“Fine!” Neal snorted.

“Great!” Bryce bit out in frustration.

Chuck thought it was now his turn to make an exit because he really hated confrontations. After he hastily left and slipped around a corner, Sarah materialized and grabbed his arm. “Is everything alright in the men’s room, Chuck? Bryce hasn’t come back yet and I’m wondering if I should go in.”

“No, no,” Chuck said with his eyes wide. “Everything is just dandy, and I’m sure Bryce will be joining you in a minute.”

“Well, what was all that ‘Mayday! Mayday!’ stuff?” Sarah wanted to know.

“Um, false alarm,” Chuck stuttered. “You know how nervous I get during missions. Listen, speaking of missions and objectives, I flashed on the microchip and it’s hanging on Hayes’ belt loop.”

Just then Neal rounded the corner, smiled at Chuck, and extended his arm to a beautiful blond in a stunning red dress. “Mrs. Anderson, perhaps we should mingle and let Chuck get back to serving wine and champagne,” he said with his killer smile in place. Sarah narrowed her eyes slightly but allowed Neal to escort her into the ballroom where a band had just struck up the first chords of the sensuous Brazilian dance known as the Lambada. Neal held out his hand, “Shall we,” he said enticingly as he gathered his “wife” into his arms.

“You’re a very good dancer,” Neal said admiringly as they executed the first complicated side steps and Sarah swung her hips suggestively.

“You’re a little rusty,” she snarked in response.

“Can you just let me lead?” Neal implored as he bent her backwards in a deep dip that accentuated her perky breasts.

“No!” she replied with a bit of a nasty smile when he pulled her back up and nestled her close to his chest. Unbelievably, the female spy started spouting off the location of the cameras and the henchmen in the room instead of sweet nothings into his ear. It was a clear indication that it wasn’t love or infatuation on her mind at the moment. Neal couldn’t really understand why Chuck was so enamored with this woman, but he wasn’t in a position to pass judgment.

The dance became almost a battle of wills between the partners until Neal got even by sliding lasciviously down Sarah’s body from neck to crotch, so close she had to have felt his hot breath through the sheer dress she was wearing. The pawing of his hands trailing down her back and thighs was the coup de gras. As the Latin music began to fade, Sarah put her game face on as the enthralled audience started to applaud, and she and her dance partner engaged in some deep open-mouthed kisses. Out of the corner of his eye, Neal saw a poleaxed Chuck finally tear his eyes away from the sight of them and move towards Von Hayes, who was seated at a table with a number of friends. Neal reckoned that sexy rendition of a suggestive dance and the lusty display of moves had Chuck distracted because the minute he reached Hayes and tried to refill his glass, the Intersect managed to clumsily pour the liquor directed into the host’s lap.

Von Hayes immediately reacted by jumping up and lambasting Chuck for his ineptitude. He quickly excused himself from his guests with a promise to return after a quick change of trousers due to the unfortunate wardrobe fiasco. Chuck slunk away with his head down, but Neal and Sarah were directly in the path of Hayes’ retreat. It wasn’t difficult for a light fingered pickpocket to easily snag the desired item. However, this presented a big problem. If the target was headed upstairs to change his pants, he’d definitely notice that he was missing his key fob. Neal also worried that he might catch Bryce during his search for the Ottoman artifacts.

“I’ll be right back, Sweetheart,” Neal whispered to a confused Sarah as he followed in Hayes’ wake.

Halfway up the spiral staircase to the master bedroom, Neal called out to Hayes and held up the key fob. “Von, old buddy, I think you may have dropped this.”

Hayes turned and scowled at Neal as he grabbed the item. “Do I know you?”

“Of course you do, and that’s why you sent me an invite to tonight’s shindig,” Neal assured him. “I must say it’s all very impressive. Happy Birthday, old friend!”

“You’re the Lambada guy,” Hayes said slowly. Then to cover up his confused ignorance, he added, “It’s been awhile, but I’m glad you could make it tonight, Buddy.”

Neal smiled graciously. “Well, you go take care of business, Von, and I’ll see you later downstairs. Then we can rehash old times and share a few laughs.”

“Yeah, sure,” Hayes replied, still at a loss.

As Neal’s mark continued up the stairs to the third floor, Bryce materialized from behind a pillar on the second floor hallway. “Did you get it?” he confronted his doppelganger.

“Yeah, I got it but I had to temporarily give it back,” Neal whispered. “How about you? Did you find the artifacts?”

“Right here,” the spy said as he patted his jacket pocket. “Before I turn them over, tell me why you had to hand the microchip back to Hayes?”

“Need to know, and you don’t need to know,” Neal taunted.

“Well, if you’re not going to hold up your end of the bargain then I’m not handing you anything,” Bryce threatened.

“Now don’t let your spy thong give you a wedgie,” Neal teased. “The night’s not over yet, so I’ll get it done. Right now you’ve become extraneous, so just leave and I’ll meet you later tonight so we can swap the fruits of our ill-gotten gains.”

“No way, Dude. This was originally my op and I’m not going to let you commandeer it,” Bryce said harshly. “I can’t trust that you won’t screw it up.”

“You spy people are all so distrusting and paranoid,” Neal said with a sigh. “I’m not exactly winging it alone. I have my own go-to guy on site and, unfortunately, Casey is still lurking around. And let me remind you that your beautiful but contrary comrade, Sarah Walker, is waiting for me in the ballroom. Just how many reinforcements do you need to feel comfortably confident? And, just so you know, I don’t think the lovely Mrs. Anderson is really into you, Buddy. Maybe you should step aside and let Chuck have a chance.”

“What are you babbling about?” Bryce seemed perplexed. “Sarah and I have a history that started long before Chuck came on the scene. He’s just an asset that she’s supposed to protect and he knows it.”

“I think your relationship with the lovely Sarah might be _ancient_ history, or at least that’s my take on it,” Neal said dryly. “Maybe spies get tunnel vision and can’t see the forest for the trees. Chuck is clearly smitten, and Ms. Walker seems quite fond of him from the look on her face when Hayes was about to bite his head off.”

“You think?” Bryce was suddenly unsure of himself.

“Trust me, Buddy, it’s my business to read people,” Neal said softly. “And it’s also my business to steal from them. So, don’t sweat it; I’ll get your microchip and bring it to you.”

“I heard about that mission in Greece last year,” Bryce mused thoughtfully. “It seemed you did the impossible, slipped Casey, and then sent the microdot to Chuck. You could have made yourself a bundle if you had sold it to one of our country’s enemies.”

Neal grinned. “Don’t tell that big lug, Casey, but I’m as much of a patriot as he is. I just exhibit my American loyalty with a lot less drama but a ton more finesse.”

“Okay, I believe you,” Bryce finally gave in. “With a face like yours, how could I not. It would be like distrusting myself. Just keep Chuck and Sarah out of the crosshairs, and let Casey fend for himself. Did you know he shot me in the chest once?”

“I had heard that rumor,” Neal grimaced. “I think he may want to do the same to me so that we can have matching scars. That means I’ll have to be extra slippery tonight. So, now that we’ve reached a meeting of the minds, it’s time for you to disappear. Where can we rendezvous later for the exchange?”

“Sarah can drive you to either the _Buy More_ or the _Orange Orange_ frozen yogurt concession in Burbank,” Bryce answered brusquely. “Both have access to Castle where I’ll be waiting.”

“Dude, do you realize how ridiculous all that just sounded?” Neal said as he shook his head in bewilderment.

“Look, Neal, I’m trusting you, so give me the same consideration,” Bryce said as he stared into Neal’s eyes, the same Caribbean blue as his own.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll be in touch,” Neal promised.

~~~~~~~~~~

Bryce kept his word and left by a back door. Mozzie saw a tall man in a ritzy tuxedo stroll through the kitchen after he threw the little bald man a warning glance. Mozzie surmised that apparition might have been Neal’s doppelganger, but he wasn’t about to chance finding out. Maybe this was all some sort of delusional nightmare and tomorrow morning he’d wake up with the mother of all hangovers. He might even tell Neal all about the scary dream just for laughs.

Meanwhile, the real Neal had rejoined his phony wife. He steered Sarah over to Von Hayes, now in a dry pair of trousers, again holding court with his party guests. “Bryce, you already have his key fob. I felt you do the lift, so why are we still here?” Sarah whispered in his ear.

“Need to know, Sweetheart, and you don’t need to know right now,” Neal said tauntingly as he gave her slim waist a little squeeze.

Much to Sarah’s chagrin, Neal was loud and verbose as he slapped Von Hayes on the back and began telling outrageous stories about him and their past encounters to his sycophants. Neal was always thorough when he researched his marks. He knew enough about Hayes to make the yarns believable but vague. After a while, even Hayes was starting to think they had happened in years gone by. To put a cherry on top of the sundae, Neal asked the band to accompany him as he sang “Happy Birthday” with an affectionate arm slung around Hayes’ shoulders. An appreciative audience marveled at Neal’s clear tenor voice and joined in for a second chorus. As a smiling Neal took his bow and Hayes acknowledged the many congrats, Neal sidled up to Sarah and whispered, “I’m going to make my exit now, Sweetheart, and it’s a solo one. I’m sure Chuck can take you home later.”

Before Sarah could object, Neal was sauntering off. 


	3. Give It A Whirl, Chuck!

Mozzie was pacing between the two beds in the Econo Lodge in Santa Monica. Every few minutes, he would peer out through a tiny crack in the heavy curtains to watch for Neal. After every caper, the pair had a bolt hole, and this very cheap, no-frills motel was where they were supposed to rendezvous after the current caper. Mozzie had chosen it carefully. It was a corner unit on the ground floor at the back of the L-shaped building with a panoramic view of the parking lot and a parade of rusted dumpsters. Mozzie had faith in his young cohort. Neal would have gotten the job done, easy peasy, but the presence of some unsavory characters threw a monkey wrench into the plan, even if one looked like Neal’s clone.

Mozzie breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Neal, or at least he hoped it was Neal, drive up in a low-slung Lamborghini and nose it into a slot outside their room. When the young thief strolled through the door, Mozzie nailed him with a direct two-part question: “Did you get the artifacts and where did you get the fancy wheels?”

Neal held up Hayes’ property and jiggled it. “It seems that the birthday boy keeps more than a microchip on his keyring.”

“You ignored the first question,” Mozzie reminded his friend. “Did you get the artifacts?”

“Bryce got them, or at least he claims he did,” Neal shrugged. “We just have to make the exchange.”

Mozzie was thoughtful. “Is an exchange really necessary, mon frère? Maybe a bird in the hand is worth two in the bush. Didn’t I hear that Von Hayes was planning on selling that obnoxious little key fob for 15 mil? That’s a lot more dinero than what we’ll get for a Turkish coin and some jewelry baubles, and then you could have a whole fleet of Lamborghinis at your disposal. And, really, Neal, do you think it’s a good idea to leave that luxury car parked by this dump? It won’t be long before it disappears into the ether.”

Neal looked stricken. “Moz, do you really think there may be thieves lurking around here? I’m appalled!”

“Get serious!” Mozzie insisted. “Think about what I’m saying. You don’t owe those government clowns anything.”

“Mozzie, I‘m not going to betray my country for any amount of money,” Neal said quite seriously. “Besides, if I tried to pull that stunt, I’d always be looking over my shoulder for Casey, and that’s one problem I don’t need.”

“Yeah, after eyeballing that menacing character, I see your point. Well, I didn’t actually look him in the eye. The big troll is probably seven feet tall, or maybe he just gives that impression to someone who is vertically challenged. So, tell me what happens now?”

“Now we have to engineer an exchange, and I’m sending you in as my front man to set it up,” Neal explained. “Chuck works at a _Buy More_ in Burbank. I want you to make contact and tell him a time and a place to meet me with our artifacts. Remind him to keep our meeting to himself. He can’t tell anyone, not even Bryce.”

“The _Buy More_ ,” Mozzie was suddenly intrigued. “Maybe I can pick up a new police scanner or a radar detector while I’m there.”

Neal sighed. “Mozzie, you don’t even own a car in New York City, so try to keep on task. You need to engage Chuck in a conversation. If anybody seems to be listening, just say you want him to set up a home theater system or something.”

“Can you trust this nerdy person?” Mozzie waffled, ignoring the fact that he was just as much of a nerd himself.

“Yeah, I trust him even more than my twin look-alike,” Neal admitted.

~~~~~~~~~~

The next afternoon, a little bald man with thick glasses strolled through the automatic doors at the _Buy More_. He almost lost his cool when he spotted John Casey walking the floor wearing a green polo shirt with the store logo on the pocket. Mozzie could only hope that he wouldn’t be memorable to the big galoot now that he wasn’t wearing his toupee. He had initially wanted to casually linger before ambling up to the Nerd Herd desk, but now he didn’t have the luxury of sticking around too long. After zeroing in on the tech help counter, he cast a dubious look at two characters slouching on the other side. One looked like a middle-aged stoner, and the shorter, darker skinned one was trying to carry off a Prince Valiant hairdo.

“I would like to speak with Chuck Bartowski,” Mozzie said amiably. “I hear he’s the best when it comes to installing surround sound.”

The taller of the duo looked Mozzie up and down. “Dude, ain’t no way surround sound is gonna help you get chicks. That’s a lost cause, so maybe porn’s the way to go.”

“Maybe you can just find Mr. Bartowski for me?” Mozzie asked nicely.

_“Chuck!”_ the smaller man bellowed. “There’s somebody here that needs real work done and you know that’s not in Jeff’s or my job description.”

Mozzie quickly swiveled his head around after the loud announcement. Apparently, this type of summons was openly tolerated and probably happened often because Casey wasn’t paying any attention. He was busy selling a customer on the finer points of a huge gas grill. “This is the macho way to cook those steaks, Bro, and once you go big, you never go back,” Mozzie heard him say.

Mozzie attention returned to the desk when he spied a tall lanky guy sporting high top sneakers trot up. Chuck looked dumbfounded. “You’re Neal’s little buddy,” he said unnecessarily. “What happened to Neal last night? He was supposed to come to Castle to make the exchange and he never showed.”

Mozzie was confused, to say the least. “What castle are you talking about—Hearst Castle? That’s hours up the coast near San Francisco.”

“Forget I mentioned that,” Chuck quickly backpedaled. “I’m always babbling about things I shouldn’t mention. But I trusted Neal to keep his end of the bargain. I went to bat for him with my superiors.”

“He intends to do just that,” Mozzie reassured this geeky guy. “However, he was a bit leery of coming alone to someplace where _that_ might be lurking,” he added as he let his eyes dart to the side in Casey’s direction.

“Yeah, I guess I get it. Casey can be a bit intimidating,” Chuck agreed with little reluctance. “So how are we going to do this?”

“You are going to come to the address on this paper all by your lonesome with the really important ‘tools’ you’ll need to install a home theater system. Neal will be waiting with a certain set of keys to let you in. After you’re finished, you’ll leave a few of your implements behind and then everybody’s copacetic.”

“It may be a bit difficult for me to get those ‘tools,’ seeing as how they’re tucked away in a vault,” Chuck replied worriedly.

“Well, you’re a spy, aren’t you, so you must have some talents in your arsenal that will get the job done,” Mozzie huffed out. “If you want this thing to have a happy ending, it depends on where you stop the story. Don’t stop it before it even begins,” he warned before turning and walking towards the doors.

Chuck knew Neal’s lip man was right. Like it or not, a former innocent nerd had been transformed into a spy thanks to the download of the Intersect into his brain. It annoyed Chuck to no end when Casey and others referred to him by that moniker instead of his given name. Even “Charles” would have been better than being thought of as the _Intersect_ , like he was a thing rather than a person. Neal was the only one, well, maybe besides Sarah, who looked at him like he was normal and not some weird parody that was invaluable to national security.

But a mission had to be completed, so maybe now was the time to take advantage of his esoteric talents. If he concentrated hard enough, would the vast network in his brain provide the knowledge to crack a safe? There was only one way to find out. Neal was depending on him, and the con man/thief was easy to like and trust. It was a paradox because Chuck couldn’t bring the same feelings to the forefront when it came to his doppelganger. Bryce kept saying that what he had done to Chuck in the past was all orchestrated to protect him, but being expelled from college after being accusing of cheating hadn’t felt very protective at the time.

Neal, on the other hand, didn’t appear to have an agenda. He seemed to like Chuck for who he was rather than his arcane intelligence or skills. That meant a lot to an insecure guy who still lived with his sister and her boyfriend because he couldn’t make it on his own. Later in the day, Chuck slipped away to Castle, concentrated hard to conjure up a yegg mentality, and voila, it actually worked. A few hours later, he was tooling along in his little red and white electric car to a very important meeting.

Chuck had plugged the address that Mozzie had provided into his phone’s navigational system, but was confused when the little Nerd Herd clown car was stopped short at a dead end amongst a vast industrial complex. Suddenly, he heard a roar behind him and spotted a jazzy, tricked out Lamborghini pulling up in his rear view mirror. Neal was at the wheel sporting sexy aviator sun glasses and a toothy grin. Revving the engine like a Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer lion, Neal called out, “Get in, Chuck. Let’s go for a joy ride!”

After Chuck climbed in, Neal peeled out of the lot and accessed the freeway. “So, what do you think of our wheels?” he grinned.

“A little short on leg room but very long on machismo,” Chuck returned the smile. “While I’m experiencing the fantasy ride of my dreams, please tell me you’ve brought the microchip,” he begged.

“Hanging right here in the ignition,” Neal assured him. “After we conduct our business, my associate will be picking me up and you can drive this primo little baby back to your hideaway. That should make Casey drop his teeth and show you a little respect.”

“Neal, Buddy, you always know just the right thing to say to bolster a guy’s ego,” Chuck said happily. “And since you didn’t ask, let me reassure you that I’ve brought your stuff. It’s all here in my messenger bag.”

“I didn’t need to ask,” Neal smiled. “I trust you, Man, and my trust isn’t something I give away lightly.” That comment made Chuck smile even wider and he vowed to rely on his instincts more often in the future.

Eventually, Neal pulled the car up to the beach in Santa Monica. He and Chuck got out of the vehicle, and the two friends exchanged keys for a messenger bag. Neal glanced around. “My ride isn’t here yet, so why don’t we take a little stroll,” he suggested as he walked out onto the sand towards the ocean. Chuck followed in his wake until both sat down next to each other and enjoyed the view.

“Did you take up scuba diving yet?” Neal asked the man beside him.

“Nah, I don’t think that’s who I am,” Chuck admitted. “I’m just a boring guy without a life, but I guess it got a lot less boring thanks to Bryce Larkin. Your doppelganger was my college roommate and he managed to drag me into the spy world, so I’m not caught up in it by choice. He claims he did it for my own good, but I don’t see how that’s even possible.”

Neal gave Chuck a sidelong glance. “Don’t you hate it when people who are supposed to be your friends act like wise gurus who know what’s best for you, whether you agree or not?”

“Yeah, I guess I do feel that way sometimes,” Chuck said slowly.

The two men were quiet for a bit watching the waves roll in and the sun begin to set. “When I use my imagination and look out on the horizon, I can almost see the islands of Polynesia beckoning in the distance,” Neal said dreamily. “And if I do the same thing on the East Coast and stare out at the Atlantic, my mind can conjure up images of Africa and Europe—a vast world to explore.”

“It must be exciting to be footloose and able to go where you want to go,” Chuck said wistfully.

“It’s only exciting if you have the right person by your side.” Neal answered slowly. “Right now, I’ve managed to lose the girl of my dreams, and I desperately want to find her and win her back. I have some competition to tackle in that arena, just like you.”

“I can’t imagine any girl in her right mind kicking you to the curb,” Chuck said.

“It happens if you’re not completely honest with that one special person,” the con man explained. “Maybe you should be honest with Sarah, Chuck. Tell her how you really feel. Her reaction might surprise you.”

Chuck blushed. “C’mon, Neal, look at me and then look at yourself in the mirror. You and Bryce are handsome, sophisticated, and know just how to play the game.”

“That’s my point,” Neal cut in. “You don’t play games, Buddy. You’re honest and guiless and you have a good heart. Those qualities outweigh the surface stuff any day of the week, and, unless I’m completely off base, Sarah admires that in you and she’s definitely interested.”

“Do you really think I’ve got a chance?” a hopeful nerd asked.

“You won’t know unless you put yourself out there,” Neal urged. “Who knows? If you’re brave enough, maybe your protectress could become your lover.”

Just then, Neal felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. “Gotta go, Chuck. Hang in there and tell Casey I blew him a kiss when I left.”

“I don’t know if we’ll ever see each other again, Neal,” Chuck said slowly, “so take care of yourself. Remember my warning about some dude named Peter Burke.”

Neal just smiled as he stood up and made his way back to the boardwalk where he noticed Sarah Walker leaning on a railing with her eyes glued on her responsibility. She slowly ambled over to Neal as he approached. “What were you and Chuck talking about, Bryce?”

Neal tilted his head and rewarded her with a small melancholy smile. “You,” he said succinctly.

“Me?” Sarah seemed a bit rattled by that statement.

“Listen, Sarah, let’s be honest with each other,” Neal began. “We had a great love affair back when we were partners, but we’re not those same people anymore. I think now we want different things from different people. I believe you’re struggling with whether you should give your heart away to Chuck. Follow your instincts, Sarah. If it feels right, then it’s the right thing to do. You won’t ever find a more loving and loyal person than the one sitting down there on the sand. I can offer you danger and intrigue, but Chuck can give you a sense of stability and complete devotion. It’s your choice. Let’s keep this little chat just between us,” Neal whispered as he gave her a wink and began walking away.

Neal climbed into Mozzie’s car with a satisfied grin on his face. “Are the artifacts in that messenger bag?” an eager little bald man wanted to know.

“Mission accomplished,” Neal grinned. “Actually, I went on another mission today, Moz. You’re looking at a very clever Machiavellian matchmaker!”

“I don’t think I really want to know!” Mozzie shivered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one more story left in this trilogy and I'll begin posting next week.


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